


the proof between

by kagako



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Christmas Eve date, Fluff, M/M, Spoilers, i like the idea of their other selves being able to talk to them like u know in the Mind World, its tough being the savior of the world and all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagako/pseuds/kagako
Summary: “Let’s go,” she says, turning on her heel once Akira gives her a firm nod.They just make it away from the warmth of the crowd when his phone chimes.Yusuke.Sae turns to him, as if she could feel his resolve shake from the mere characters of Yusuke’s name.-It's Christmas Eve and Akira spends it with Yusuke, whether it's a good idea or not.





	the proof between

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone! this is my first persona 5 fic. it's been sitting on my computer for, ever since i finished the game like a year ago and now, merry christmas, i've finally completed it!
> 
> i took a lot of inspiration from the girls' christmas dates, as well as from yusuke's confidants and my own headcanons, and so on.
> 
> since persona/smt is known for silent protags, i just really like the idea of thinking about what was going through their minds when something HUGE happens and in this case it's when sae basically tells him he and everyone else knows he's the one that has to go to jail.
> 
> anyways i've talked long enough, i hope you enjoy this fic, please treat me kindly!  
> (also the title is ???? i dont know okay dont shoot me but all my fic titles are like the same and this one was going to be "tonight with you" but i have one so similar to that. i cant)

Niijima Sae approaches him with a look on her face that he can’t quite describe.

“I didn’t expect to find the world’s savior alone on Christmas Eve,” she says, and her tone is a bit teasing—but Akira doesn’t mind. She holds herself different now: higher, if that were possible, while the air about her was crisp and, dare he think it, a tad more easy-going than it had been when she’d first approached him in interrogation a little over a month ago.

Akira says nothing, but because his lips are numb due to the cold, and because he can’t be bothered to give her a trademark smirk, he simply raises a brow and tries for a teasing hum.

Her expression softens, and he can sense a hesitance about her even before she draws in a long breath. “…Can I talk to you for a minute?” she asks, and when he gives a small nod, the first thing she does is thank him—which wasn’t really necessary, not really, because in the end it ultimately was something only he and his teammates could do. He was powerless without them, powerful with them, and for some reason it hurt him to think that.

Sae expresses her concerns, ending in a _“won’t it?”_ to which he can only say, “I’m sure it will,” and her lips turn upward in a small smile as she agrees: “I believe so, too.”

 The pause in the air creates a heavy, somewhat foreboding silence, even with the bustling couples and _way_ last minute shoppers. When Sae begins speaking again, the oxygen in the air seems to grow thinner and thinner as Akira listens to her; but she reassures him: _“we can arrest him.”_

Akira can’t help but feel there’s a _but_ coming.

She skips it, however, and gets to the point.

“The problem lies in proving him guilty.”

He figured that much, of course, nodding along as Sae explains the concerns with the Metaverse and the mental shutdowns—there is no definite, solid proof, and of course Akira knew that.

Surely, his teammates did as well; but some things you just didn’t want to ruin the mood with.

When Akira hears Akechi’s name, he tenses and then forces himself to relax—Sae has a keen eye, and she doesn’t need to be probing into that sealed safe.

_Gone missing._

Akira says nothing, and continues to listen intently, trying to ignore the way the air around him suddenly feels humid and suffocating despite how clear and crisp the air is around him.

“I want you to turn yourself in to the police,” she tells him.

He knew why—he wasn’t an idiot, he was able to read between the lines and puzzle together the possible futures which were in store for him and his teammates. Every possible outcome he had conjured up wasn’t the best, wasn’t solid-proof, and didn’t ensure all of their safeties and freedom.

Akira says, “Why?”

Sae gives him a look, like she couldn’t believe he didn’t already know, but instead of brushing it off and simply saying, _you know why,_ she looks away. “Your testimony—to prove Shiro guilty—“

Akira tunes her out here and there. He knew already, but hearing it from someone else’s tongue and not from the voice in the back of his mind, that surely belonged to his other self, made it much worse than he had anticipated.

“—center stage—a hero who saved this country—“

_How could I call myself a hero when there’s a chance my teammates won’t see Christmas day?_

“—no way the police—will let that slide.”

He can feel his hands tingling from the cold although they’re stuffed in his pockets.

“—there’s no telling what they’ll do to you or your teammates.”

Here, Akira forces himself to listen.

“There’s the possibility that they’ll fabricate a crime and move to arrest you all.”

The shock of her words surprised him—how could he have forgotten such a simple thing when he knew the police weren’t above that?

Sae states the obvious: _turn yourself in and you’ll be arrested._ She goes on to explain his past record, how it’ll be used as leverage; he will be sent to juvenile hall and most likely be placed in solitary confinement.

Hearing the words from someone else really did pack a punch—it was so much easier to shrug off when you told it to yourself half-heartedly.

“I’ll make sure it’s guaranteed that your teammates—all of them—are safe,” she assures him. “I’ll expose Shido for everything he’s got. Society cannot become distorted again. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?”

Akira directs his gaze to the concrete.

_All of us—we succeeded in changing Shido’s heart, as well as the general public… Metaverse is gone, along with that corrupted god…_

His mind goes in circles as he blinks without really seeing anything. As Akira slowly comes to a conclusion, he looks up at the buildings: bright, colorful screens blind him momentarily, but that’s okay.

“This will be the final deal between you and I,” Sae says. “I will ask you once more. Please, turn yourself in to the police, of your own accord.”

The words are out of his lips before he even thinks about them: “I’ll save my teammates.”

He watches as her shoulders shake with something like relief, as she grants him with a deep nod and a smile, with a _thank-you_ on top. Akira cannot blame her—after all, she has a sister on the line, as well.

“Let’s go,” she says, turning on her heel once Akira gives her a firm nod.

They just make it away from the warmth of the crowd when his phone chimes.

_Yusuke._

Sae turns to him, as if she could feel his resolve shake from the mere characters of Yusuke’s name.

“I need a little more time,” Akira says, and he means for it to sound casual, but to his ears it sounds more like a plea than anything.

Sae pauses before she gives the o-k. “Tomorrow morning, then,” she tells him. She doesn’t look back as she walks away, and for that, he is thankful.

Akira watches her go before opening Yusuke’s message.

 _Good evening, Akira,_ it begins, and the guy in question can’t help the upward tug of his lips although the situation at hand isn’t one to be smiling in.

_I apologize for contacting you, given the state we are all in. This may be selfish of me, but it is the time where the snow falls and two get sick together from walking in the cold too long._

Akira rolls his eyes, but with no ill intent. “How poetic,” he teases aloud, to no one in particular.

_What I mean to say is, it’s Christmas Eve. I would like to enjoy it with you, if that is alright. May we enjoy each other’s company and… perhaps go back to your room?_

There’s a small fire in his chest as he taps his thumb against the screen.

 _There is no need to ask,_ Akira sends back—and the reply he receives is almost immediate: _I take that as a yes, then? Wonderful. I’m in the Underground Walkway right now, let us meet in front of the station._

***

Yusuke greets him as always: with a smile formed around his name.

Akira wonders fleetingly how many more times he’ll hear it during their last hours together—but soon the thought gets pushed away as Yusuke steps closer. Yusuke’s smile is easy: small and pleasant, sometimes mischievous and other times cruel behind a fox mask, but Akira would take anything he could get.

“Yusuke,” he greets.

_How much longer will I be able to say his name and have him smile in return?_

Akira pushes the thought aside for the second time. This was not the time for such ominous thoughts—Sae gave him this, their last night together for who knows how long? He would not let the pessimistic voice in the back of his mind ruin it for either of them. Akira could not let _him_ get the better of him(self)—after all, Yusuke needs this more than Akira himself did. Instead of thinking, he simply stands a bit closer to Yusuke. He is close enough to smell the cheap shampoo on Yusuke’s hair—close enough to touch, to graze his nose against the tiny scar on Yusuke’s jaw he got when he fell as a child.

For a moment, Akira thinks of himself as a coward. He is so close, and yet—

“Want to take the long way?” Yusuke interrupts his thoughts. The way he speaks is always polite, but Akira can see an impish look in his eye.

“Yeah,” Akira says.

***

Their shoulders brush as they walk along their usual _long way_ route.

Akira leans toward Yusuke every so often. His kisses are swift and soft, a playful laugh soon following as he sees Yusuke give him a glare. It sends a chill down Akira’s spine each and every time Yusuke’s lips seem to chase after his own—when his hands reach for his shoulders to pull him back in—but Akira is sometimes like water: he slips through the tiniest of cracks. He throws his head back and laughs—loud, loud enough to wake the dogs, to shake the stars, and although Akira could be devilish, Yusuke thinks he is other-worldly.

There truly is something different about the Fool card.

“Akira,” Yusuke says, because he likes the way his name rolls of his tongue.

He enjoys the lights reflecting off of Akira’s hair, from the glint of his eyes; when their footsteps are in sync and when their fingers brush and twine together at the same moment. Nothing makes Yusuke’s heart feel calmer—not even Sayuri. Akira is someone who has changed his life, inside and out, and while at times Yusuke struggles with the regrets of his past, the foolishness of blind belief, there is nothing he could possibly do to thank Akira enough—even if the boy in question shrugs it off and laughs and says, _it was nothing._

The world’s savior looks back at him, eyebrow raised, but nonetheless he says, “Yusuke,” right back at him.

Yusuke cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong.

***

Akira always thought of himself as a pretty good liar—but as they walk through Leblanc’s doors, he feels his resolve giving way. There is no way he could keep something so horrible from Yusuke, but Akira couldn’t bring himself to say the words; to hear them from another’s lips were fine, but saying it with his own voice made him want to drink spoiled milk.

“That was a pleasant walk, as always.”

Akira nods. Teasingly, he adds: “Not enough kissing, though.”

Yusuke’s eyes widen only to immediately turn into a scowl—but he’s laughing as he says, “You are the elusive one, not I, Akira.”

“That may or may not be true.”

Immediately, he wonders if that sounds as harsh to Yusuke as it does to his own ears.

Yusuke clears his throat, but says nothing as he reaches for Akira’s hand. “Come. I’ve got a present for you, Akira.”

“Oh, but aren’t you always my present?”

The sound that comes from the other’s throat sounds painful. Was that a snort, or a laugh? “Just—come.”

Akira gives a private smile as Yusuke leads him up the stairs. It was quite cold outside, but here, so close to Yusuke—Akira can feel himself warm; but in the back of his mind, he isn’t too sure if that’s wise.

 _I don’t want to hurt him,_ he pleads.

 _He deserves to know,_ Joker tells him. He will always be a part of Akira—even if the Metaverse is no longer sunken into the ground.

_You’re a fucking bastard._

_Oh yeah? I learnt from the best._

“Akira?”

The boy in question hums, brows raised as he seeks out Yusuke’s eyes. Lost in his thoughts, it seems his body was on auto pilot. He looks up at Yusuke from where he is seated. “Yes?”

“Are you tired? You can, ah, retire for the night if you’d rather. We can do this some other time.”

“No,“ Akira says, perhaps a bit too quickly. He reaches toward Yusuke’s sleeves, coaxing him closer. “I mean—“ _it might be the last time I see you—_ “we are already together. I want to spend tonight with you.”

Yusuke’s expression softens. Gently, he takes his hands from Akira’s own in favor of sitting next to him. “Right,” he murmurs, and reaches for the bag at his feet. “Well, ah, as I’ve said: I have a present for you. And before you protest, it is okay—I know you hadn’t the time for my gift. But I expect you will treat me to a grand museum, maybe one of the ones that is too expensive for my miniscule wallet, or maybe you can treat me to a—“

Akira clears his throat. “Just think on it, Yusuke. We have time.”

_Ouch._

Yusuke stops short, realizing his words, and: “Yes. You are right.”

_Double ouch. Two strikes, huh?_

“Anyways—here you are.”

Akira takes the bundle of dark red and blue wrappings from Yusuke, carefully, as if it were glass. In all reality, the moment itself feels that fragile to Akira, from the way Yusuke shifts closer to him, to the way their fingers brush as the present is passed along. It terrifies him.

When he opens it, Akira is surprised.

“Yusuke—“

“I want you to have it.”

He looks away from Yusuke in favor of settling his gaze on the sketchbook in his hands. It’s worn—the binding is cracked from top to bottom, and corners of the cover is all bent and slightly ripped. He remembers this sketchbook—he remembers snooping around Yusuke’s space, looking through the first couple of pages. Akira remembers being so, s _o_ defeated by what he saw. He could tell where Yusuke was at, during those times.

Akira remembers Yusuke, at the time: furious and red-faced, as if his secrets had been spilled, like oil.

“This is—“

Now, skimming through it, he can see a change. There is color, there is a hope he can feel—from the pages, to his fingertips, there is an emotion that seeps into his skin. Akira is sure of Yusuke, is sure of his feelings. “Yusuke—“

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” the other boy begins instead. “There was a time I pretended to be strong. I was a completely different person. You can see it, can’t you?”

Instead of words, Akira simply nods. He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t sweating as he held the frayed sketchbook. Looking at the drawings in the beginning (various scribbles of frustration), compared to the ones toward the end (strokes of ink that were guided by confidence)—if Akira hadn’t known Yusuke, he wouldn’t have believed the other had been the only one to draw in the book.

“I remember the day I met you. I remember—that day,” Yusuke pauses here, and snorts. Nimble fingers reach over and search for the page. What greets Akira’s eyes is just a blob of red. “I went to my room, broke a red pen, and let it spill.”

Surely, this is something poetic, Akira wants to think.

“It was the first day, in such a long time, I had felt anything. There was—a burning in me. I denied it, of course. I wanted friends. You were—a—ah. You were… weird; and you only… proved to be weirder the more I was around you.”

Akira barks out a laugh. “As if you have the right to say that, Yusuke.”

He recalls watching Yusuke fuss and mutter furiously as he painted in the Metaverse. His smile twitches as he remembers sitting across from him in the boat, as he remembers antics in the church—as he remembers breaking into Yusuke’s old home.

“It was never a drag, you know,” Akira tells him. There’s certain honesty in his eyes that he’s sure Yusuke sees—is sure he sees, because once Yusuke looks at him, there’s a particular shyness there.

“I know. I’m pleased… you know, too.”

Akira closes the sketchbook—it was a symbol, and it was proof: that Akira was here, that he had touched Yusuke in a way that no one ever had before. It was something Akira was sure he could get emotional over. The sentiment wasn’t lost on him.

 _What an asshole,_ Joker laughs.

“Yusuke—“

“Yes?”

It was in that one syllable, that Akira knew that Yusuke knew. The tone of his voice was clear and calm, yet there was an inkling feeling, something was behind his eyes that said: _don’t treat me as if I am not the sly fox, here._

Still—

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Akira tries to laugh it off.

“You are worried, correct? About Shido, and about the case.” Yusuke states, his voice tight. “But… but—I feel as though you should not worry. Niijima-san, she—she is good at her job, she won’t let anything happen to us—to you, Akira. You aren’t going anywhere.”

_Three blows._

Akira looks away, squeezes his eyes shut. _Can’t tell him, can’t tell him._

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out instead.

“W—Whatever do you mean?” Yusuke asks. He sounds taken aback. Akira feels the other fidget beside him. “I’m the one… who must apologize. Forgive me, I did not mean to—to put a damper on everything, especially after you went out of your way to walk me here. I apologize.”

“No, it’s—“

“I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait,” Akira gasps. His hands catch Yusuke’s own. “Stay, Yusuke. Until morning.”

_Not a good idea, not a good idea—can’t do this to him, want to be near until I have to go—_

_You are one confusing fuck,_ Joker sneers.

“Yusuke.”

He felt like a fool, as if he was begging—but he supposes that’s not too far off. There is a tugging sensation in his chest: let him go, make him stay. If only there were a way for time to spot, so that way Yusuke could stay and Akira himself wouldn’t have to go.

Akira jerks as he feels Yusuke’s hands on his shoulders. He looks up at the other, unsure of what to expect.

“Are you certain it is… fine, if I stay?”

 _No._ “Yes.”

Yusuke looks down at him, brows furrowed. There is something here—something wrong, terribly wrong.

 _Something stinks,_ Fox supplies.

Instead of the words that are on the tip of his (Fox’s) tongue, Yusuke pulls Akira from the loveseat. “Then, come,” he says, as soothing as he can muster. There’s a certain fear he sees on Akira’s shoulders, and it’s so uncharacteristic that it scares Yusuke to wits end. Once the back of his legs hit the side of the bed, he sits down, tugging on Akira’s arms to follow suit.

 _How cruel,_ Fox sighs. Then, the voice in the back of his mind perks up. _Perhaps your little Joker is being just as cruel. Wouldn’t you say?_

Yusuke reaches toward Akira the minute he sits down. He lays his palm flat on Akira’s cheek, as if to ground him.

“You’re staying?” Akira mutters the words, like he didn’t believe them.

“I am, Akira,” Yusuke tells him, and threads their fingers together. He rests his lips against Akira’s knuckles, an act of comfort, and of shy emotion.

 _But are you?_ is what doesn’t leave Yusuke's lips.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i appreciate each and every one of you ♥


End file.
